Closure
by Stormantia
Summary: Watanuki is able to find a small measure of closure with the help of Doumeki. [Slight spoilers up to chapter 85]


It figured that it would be today that Himawari-chan would ask him out for dinner.

"Hey Watanuki-kun? I was wondering if you and Doumeki-kun would like to come with me this afternoon to try out this new café that opened. I heard that it was really good!" And her smile, that smile that could have only come from a raven-haired beauty—no a goddess, a goddess of kindness and beauty and everything else wonderful in the world, despite what Yuuko-san said, shined through the room. On any other day he would have been inspired to twitter and coo and practically float on air, but it wasn't any other day. It was today, and there was something he had to do, something that was a long time coming, and so it was with a heavy heart that he told her he was busy today.

"Oh, then I'll just ask Doumeki-kun, and you and me can just go another time, ok?" she beamed. Watanuki's face fell.

"Ah, well…"

"I'm afraid I have something to do today," a bland voice interrupted somewhere behind him. Watanuki jumped and whirled, only to find Doumeki with that stupid look on his face. There was a soft "oh," behind him, and he turned back to Himawari-chan, who was looking thoughtful. A second later her radiant smile was back with full force.

"Another time then, ok? You two have fun!" And then she was gone.

Amber eyes slanted in his direction as Doumeki deliberately crossed his arms in front of him. "So, what is it that you need me for? Another job from Yuuko-san?"

Doumeki noticed how his face fell, almost immediately, into an expression that was too close to something he had seen but once before, only this time it was inherently sorrowful. He shook his head, and his voice was oddly controlled.

"I want you to come with me. I'll make you whatever you want in return." The faintest touch of a smirk tugged at Doumeki's lips.

"Even nagashi soumen?"

But Watanuki's lips barely twitched in irritation. There was no screaming, no ranting, no tirade, no anything. Doumeki's instincts were instantly on high alert as Watanuki mechanically nodded, face still frozen in that unsettling expression. Without a word he grabbed his bag and moved toward the door, leaving Doumeki to snatch up his bag and follow him.

It wasn't until the cemetery was just coming into view that Doumeki finally understood. He felt Watanuki's steps falter beside him, and he turned, ready to steady him, but Watanuki shook him off before he even had a chance. He shook his head, maybe to clear it, maybe to tell him not to worry.

"No matter what, you can't let me stop," his voice was strained, and beads of sweat were starting to break out along his forehead. He swiped at them impatiently with the back of his hand. "I haven't been able to visit their graves, not even at the funeral, so…I need to do this, no matter what I say later. Okay?" Icy blue eyes narrowed in his direction. Doumeki didn't answer him, but he took it as a sign of agreement.

By the time they reached the entrance Watanuki's feet were dragging, and their pace had slowed considerably. The stench rolling from the graveyard was quite possibly the worst he'd ever encountered, and he hadn't even gone _inside_ yet. He saw them, too, the spirits—their bodies writhing and roiling, moving toward him like moths to a flame, dripping arms outstretched to embrace him. He shuddered and coughed, gagging at the rank air that flooded his lungs. A strong hand gripped his shoulder, as though ready to hold him up by that alone if need be.

"Where are they?"

Watanuki swallowed, squinting through the black haze. It had been so long ago, and he had fainted before he had gotten very far but…there. "By that tree," he gasped, pointing with an unsteady hand. Doumeki's eyes narrowed slightly as his frown deepened. It was pretty far off…Watanuki might not be able to make it. His eyes scanned the headstones.

"Where are the spirits?" he asked, after a pause. Watanuki groaned and made a broad gesture with his hand, "Everywhere! I—" then he doubled over, coughing. Doumeki's hand tightened on his shoulder. It took two tries before he was able to stand up properly.

The going was terribly slow, with Watanuki having to stop often to catch what little breath he could. He couldn't help but imagine a metal hand clutching his chest, its vice-like grip slowly forcing all the air from his lungs. His coughing fits were getting longer and more violent, and his lungs burned as though he had been underwater for far too long. And despite Doumeki's presence he could still see the dead things moving in on him, rotten fingers writhing, beckoning to him as black smoke poured from their pores like some sort of morbid perfume.

He coughed and choked and hiccupped and gasped, fighting for air, but it was only the acrid smoke that was gulped down, burning its way down his throat. His feet gave out from under him, and he crumpled, or would have had two strong hands not caught him. He felt something wrap itself firmly around his waist while a large hand forced his head against Doumeki's chest, slender fingers tangled in his black hair.

"Breathe," a low voice commanded somewhere above him. He complied, sputtering as air, real unpolluted air rushed to his lungs. He had the chance to gulp down a few more precious mouthfuls before his body expelled the smog that stuck to his lungs. He had enough time to turn away before he retched.

Doumeki was almost ready to drag the bespectacled boy back to safety, promise or no promise, when Watanuki gasped. But it was different, less in a struggle for breath and more in surprise. Amber eyes focused on his profile, and the look of shock (or was it relief?) on his pale face.

"There…" he rasped, his hand trembling so bad that it was hard to tell where exactly he was pointing. "It's them…"

Doumeki's face was, for the most part, impassive as he bent down and slung one of Watanuki's arms around his broad shoulders, hoisting the skinny boy up and half-dragging, half-carrying him to the two matching gravestones.

Gently he lowered Watanuki to the ground, knowing that the boy wouldn't be able to stand without assistance and also knowing that Watanuki would want as much privacy as possible.

He was right. Watanuki kept his voice to a low, quiet murmur, starting with an "I know you can't hear this because you've already passed on, but I figured I needed to do this…" and then Doumeki did his best to tune him out. It wasn't fair to Watanuki to listen in on his conversation; if Watanuki ever felt the need to tell him what he was saying then he would, it was as simple as that.

Still, he couldn't help but catch glimmers of what he was saying, like how Watanuki's cooking still wasn't as good as his father's (highly unlikely, in Doumeki's opinion) but he was still working on it, how he was working now to get rid of his ability to see spirits, how crazy Yuuko-san, and her shop, was, how wonderful Himawari-chan was, and—

His eyes widened in shock when he heard his name. It was less that, but how he had said it. There was no growl of annoyance, no biting remark, just…his name. Doumeki couldn't help but glance curiously at Watanuki. As though catching himself, the younger boy swallowed, shoved his glasses higher onto his nose and muttered that, "the bastard has the power to repel the spirits…I guess…I owe…him…that much…although—"

Watanuki didn't get the chance to finish, though, as the darkness that had been threatening to swallow him moved in. Doumeki caught him before his head cracked on his father's gravestone. With a soft sigh he resettled the lanky boy into his arms and started toward the exit, unconsciously moving at a faster pace than normal. He spared his charge a quick glance before he set his sight firmly ahead of him.

"The soumen had better be good, idiot."


End file.
